Jemina nodded. “Perfect sense. You always act with your heart.” She helped me stand and take a step. “Is your heart telling you to act for the duke?”
I couldn’t admit it. I wanted to run, but the room spun. Jemina was my anchor. “The man is irritating. He’s full of rules and schedules, but he has been nothing but kind to Lionel. It’s only been a few weeks, and he’s shown more love to my son than any man. I’m grateful. I had to help.”
“It’s fine to admire the duke. He’s handsome and polite.”
Polite?
That wasn’t the way I’d describe him. He was terribly handsome, awfully rule-conscious, painstakingly diligent. My heart melted to a dripping puddle when he sang to Lionel or made plans for him. “I need to get my son back before this goes any further.”
Following close behind, Jemina hovered as if she thought I’d fall. With my stomach lurching, I just might.
We reached the adjoining door, but I couldn’t go through that one. I couldn’t have Repington looking at me like some sort of bridegroom in the bed that used to be mine.
I pushed away and wobbled to the hall. “We’ll go in through the main door. It will be more private if they are both asleep.”
The dim light of the hall made my vision worse. The ache in my skull intensified with each step, but I pressed forward. I had to see Lionel.
Easing the door open, I saw my boy’s crib. It gleamed next to the wide bed, but he wasn’t inside.
My heart would seize, but it was too tired from all the upset and the drummer beating on my head.
The duke, the back of him—thick, touchable hair, more brown in the candlelight—sat in his wheeled chair. In the crook of his arm, Lionel’s patch of curls peeked out.
My son wasn’t crying but making that sucking sound with his gums.
“Come on, young man. Just a few more sips. That’s an order.”
The duke’s deep voice was a whisper.
“Not quite what you’re used to, son? This cold pap dish with warmed milk isn’t a woman. It’s not flesh. Not the plump bosom of a vibrant soul. Oh, there I go prattling away. But the stories we’ll share when you are older, I can offer advice about choosing ripe melons.”
He chuckled.
I wanted to box his ears.
Then I wanted to hug them both.
“Lionel, maybe you could share a thing or two since you’ve tasted such goodness. What a surprising woman your nanny is? The beautiful minx. One minute, exasperating. The next, not so. I’d like . . . I’m going to have to save this talk, too.”
Lionel’s hiss sounded louder. Maybe he disapproved of someone talking about his mother like that, like a woman to be desired. One of flesh and blood and yearnings.
Yes. The duke needed to save that talk.
I pushed Jemina out of the room. I had to be gone before my face burned with fever.
“Sorry, I guess Lionel doesn’t need me.”
“Of course he does, but he’s fine. Now go back to bed and rest.”
“How can I? The duke is growing more attached to Lionel. He’ll not let us leave.”
“Is that a bad thing? I see how you blush, how you stare at the duke. I lost a lot, but some things are unforgettable. My thinking is addled sometimes, but I see that there’s something between you and him.”
My friend had such an innocent expression, but my head wasn’t innocent. It was covetous, thinking of Repington, admitting I wanted his kiss. And hoping he wanted mine.
But I told myself no. There was nothing but heartache that came with Englishmen. Colin left us with his depression. The duke would abandon us for war.
“I’m done with this masquerade. Let’s get my trust documents. I’ll admit to who I am and leave this place ready to buy passage on a ship for you and my son.”
